Wanting to be Understood: Drifting in Vastness
You open your eyes and find yourself drifting in the ocean. You’re on a small boat, and you’ve got a little paddle with you. You feel some alarm at the fact that you’re alone in the middle of the ocean. Nevertheless, you grab your little paddle and set out in any direction. As you set out you learn to slowly enjoy the emptiness of your surroundings. They actually bring you a peace that you didn’t initially think you were capable of feeling.
Eventually the storms come. The first few storms nearly decimate you. But you survive. You might capsize, nearly drown, and swallow salt water, but you get your little boat in order and keep moving. Life on the boat is difficult but you’re getting used to it. You prepare better for the storms, see the signs that they’re coming. You become strong. But you have this hunger inside you. This hunger that wants something that you aren’t quite sure is possible to obtain. You rationalize to yourself that that hunger is insatiable and you make peace with it. You border on actually being happy.
One day after surviving many tiny storms that barely hurt you, you see something in the distance. It’s a lighthouse. It’s the first thing you’ve seen in your life in this vast ocean. At first it’s scary, but you stop at the lighthouse and against all odds you feel something. In fact you feel good, perhaps great. This lighthouse is the safe place for you to exist in. You realize that though fully functional, the lighthouse has some issues that could be fixed. The light only works half the time, the dock is mostly broken, and the paint on the lighthouse has faded from years of weathering storms.
You realize this is an opportunity. The lighthouse will provide you with a safe haven, and in return you will do your level best to fix up any problems that you’re capable of fixing. It’s the right thing to do after all. So let’s get to work.
It’s not always easy, but you find yourself fulfilled. As you begin to work on the lighthouse you start to learn more about who you are. Your strengths. Your limits. What depth of emotion you’re capable of. It’s not always easy working on this lighthouse. In fact it’s more often challenging, than simple, but it’s always rewarding. It’s always okay. One day something happens and it’s not okay.
A storm comes, bigger than one you’ve ever experienced. It came out of nowhere. It’s just one of those things in life that happens suddenly, and it’s something that teases the possibility that your world could end in the blink of an eye. When the storm hits all of your hard work is undone. The paint cracks, the light bursts, and the dock falls apart. You realize the harbor is no longer safe for you because the storm seems to want to stay here. It defies everything you’ve ever known. You get in your little boat and leave. It breaks your heart but the lighthouse doesn’t want you here anyways. You’re not good enough.
You leave, you paddle away. You wake up. Your paddle is gone. You open your eyes and find yourself drifting in the ocean. You panic you don’t know what to do. You look around and you can’t see anything or anyone. The lighthouse is nowhere to be seen. You’re scared and the thoughts run through your mind without a hint of letting up.
“How can he be dead? How did everything go so wrong? Where did everyone go? What am I doing?”
Sometime after starting therapy, my therapist started to query Borderline Personality Disorder. One of the first questionnaires I was asked to fill out had a question which went along the lines of: “Most of the time, I haven’t had someone to nurture me, share him/herself with me, or care deeply about everything that happens to me.” I read this question. I cried when I read it.
For most of my life I have struggled with feelings of emptiness. I’ve always felt like I’m missing something. As I’ve come to understand it, it’s something most humans feel but people with BPD tend to feel it in an extreme. In the many years of feeling this I eventually came to a point where I realized that what I wanted was to be understood fully and completely. It’s no easy task to understand someone fully, and because I never considered myself to be that complex, I became frustrated that nobody was up to the task.
It took a long time, but eventually I became okay with it. My mind shifted between emotions so quickly and with so much extremity that I could barely keep up with them. How could I expect anyone else to? And so I was fine, nearly happy actually. I went through my life feeling that hunger but knowing I wouldn’t starve to death if I wasn’t fed. I made peace with the truth that nobody would ever understand me and that I wouldn’t need anyone to.
And that someone understood me. They came into my life at a point where I didn’t expect it. They showed me love, challenged me often, and taught me a great deal. They managed to do all this because they themselves weren’t perfect. It took someone who’s mind worked like my own to understand mine. And in return I could give them some of that too. It felt good to have finally met my match. And I was happy. I wasn’t hungry anymore and I felt a satisfaction that I never thought was possible. And then someone important to me died, and everything I knew shattered.
In the midst of grief and pain I lost the one person who understood me. I drifted around for a long time and I’m still drifting. I still consider myself lucky. I’m surrounded by people who fulfill a rich tapestry of roles in my life who love me, and want the best for me. But it’s never enough.
Everyone around you tells you that you don’t need to be understood. Your therapist says that nobody is ever completely capable of understanding someone else fully. You don’t believe this because you manage to do it all the time for everyone. You’re cursed with empathy that threatens to destroy you.
I know I don’t need anyone to understand me. But I want it. I want it so bad. I just want to feel something again. I can’t go back to being empty. I just want to feel that love again. I’m like an addict who tries to get his fix from every goddamn person in his life. But they all fall short. It’s not their fault. But they’re not capable of it. The one person who is wants nothing to do with you. Their own damages mean they can’t be a safe harbor for you any longer. I continue to live the life of a high functioning adult but I still feel that emptiness. There is nothing inside but hunger.
I wish I could have lived a life of never being understood. I wish I didn’t have to live knowing something is possible but having no control in making it a reality. I’m supposed to accept that I don’t need anyone else and that I’m capable of living my life with the joy that everyone I care for brings into it. But I can’t. I just want to be understood again. I want it more than anything. Instead I find myself, doing fine, but once again drifting in vastness.
